An Event That Changed My Life: Our Train Crashed – and subsequently I Overheard a Little Girl Crying.

The moment it dawned on me my life was in danger occurred in my 20s, when life was really just starting out. My closest companion, Helen, and I were on our way to Blackburn to catch up with a friend from college who had made a new home there for work. Overjoyed at the reunion, and enjoying the thought of the social gathering to come, we talked incessantly as we traveled by train from York.

We placed our luggage – containing vital items such as bottles of wine and my new pair of black clogs – in the storage compartment and got seated in a cosy two-seater. About 50 minutes into our journey, I was dimly aware of a bang. Another one sounded, now unmistakable. A woman screamed as our carriage catapulted upward in what felt like a delayed sequence. Suddenly, Helen and I were somehow on our feet in the middle of the aisle, clinging to one another. Looking down, vision blocked, I expected the carriage to overturn and ignite, similar to cinematic scenes. I recall pondering our families and friends hearing the tragic update. Subsequently, there was the young girl weeping.

“Everything is okay,” I murmured, speaking with a rasp. “It’s all over,” I whispered, mostly for my own benefit.

Her age was roughly seven or eight, and seemed to be entirely alone. Her crying shook me out of my trance; now I could do something meaningful. I made my way to where she was standing and wrapped an arm around her. “Don’t look round,” Helen shouted, but it was already too late. I caught sight of a man with his face covered in blood. A large metallic item had smashed through the window behind us. Later, we found out a runaway digger had descended the slope and smashed into our carriage, making the train leave the tracks.

Our carriage was stuck with its front end in the air. Following that came of sirens and another traveler requested that I to give the girl to him so he could assist her exit through the opening, where children were being evacuated to emergency personnel below. A few minutes later, Helen and I were likewise scrambling out of the train window and scaling a ladder down down to the rails.

Back on terra firma – beside a freight warehouse in Pudsey – my body started to shake uncontrollably. My eyes scanned for the little girl and watched her mother gather her up, as it transpired had been in the lavatory when the crash occurred. A rescuer graciously recovered my clogs. Another traveler collapsed on Helen’s case, making it split apart – though luckily our wine remained intact. Once we had waited for thirty minutes, we made our way in a provided car to Blackburn, accompanied by a young man and the woman who had caused the luggage to burst. Our friend was waiting, ashen-faced. She had heard there had been a derailment and a railway official had escorted her to an office and offered her a hot drink while she waited for news.

With the invincibility of youth, we put the train crash to one side and proceeded with the social outing, which featured a notable act by Blackburn drag queen Clitheroe Kate. No one died in the incident, despite the fact that several people were transported to the hospital. Helen and I escaped with bruises and soreness and discomfort from the force of the sudden jolt in the carriage. Our speed had been decreasing to enter Leeds station, which had been the crucial element in avoiding serious injury. Since nobody was badly hurt made it easier not to focus on the “what ifs” but that young girl who changed my outlook profoundly. Attending to her and soothing her shifted my focus outward and taught me the value of looking outwards in a crisis. In the decades since, I have frequently pondered if she remembered anything about it, and how significant it had been for her.

Helen and I have stayed close for over 30 years and That location's name now symbolizes for our skill in managing with anything, as long as we're side by side. Having her companionship during the accident made it feel as if I was protected from the full horror of the event. The crash also changed the way I approach various difficult situations, offering me a new viewpoint – and reinforcing the idea that, regardless of how terrible things look, it remains a gift to get older.